If I Die Young
by A Being Of Violet Fire
Summary: Now that Harry's defeated Voldemort, he realizes what he is. A curse on everything and everyone around him. And after saving the wizarding world once, he can't punish them with his existence any longer. Suicide/Depression/Angst Finally Complete! Review!
1. Curse

_If I die young, bury me in satin  
>Lay me down on a bed of roses<br>Sink me in the river at dawn  
>Send me away with the words of a love song<br>_

Everything was just so hopeless. There was no joy, no happiness, no peace. Hadn't I done enough for this world? Hadn't I paid my penance? Why is it that it seems that I have to earn my right to exist? That I have to prove my worth to live?

What had I done in the past, who did I piss off, that I was cursed with this… _existence?_ It seemed as though I was allowed to exist, but never to live. I was a pawn, a toy, for the wizarding world to use and then discard when I'd served my purpose. Nothing more. Never anything more.

_Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother  
>She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and<br>Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no  
>Ain't even grey but she buries her baby<em>

Worthless freak. Boy-Who-Lived. Savior-of-the-Light. Lying murderer. Attention-seeking brat. Filthy Half-Blood. Worthless freak. Invisible, obsolete, non-existent.

But never Harry. Just Harry.

I was never allowed to be me, always supposed to be the person behind the titles. It didn't matter if they were true or not. Never did, never will.

_The sharp knife of a short life, well  
>I've had just enough time<em>

_If I die young, bury me in satin_  
><em>Lay me down on a bed of roses<em>  
><em>Sink me in the river at dawn<em>  
><em>Send me away with the words of a love song<em>

_The sharp knife of a short life, well_  
><em>I've had just enough time<em>

No one ever _saw. _No one ever _cared._

That I always- _always- _spent two to three weeks visiting Poppy at midnight so that she could heal my wounds at the beginning of every school year, the end of every summer. It didn't matter that I'd used my patient confidentiality right… no one _saw. _The bruises, the scars, the words _Freak _and _Whore _and _Murderer _carved into my back.

Not my head of house, not my honorary werewolf godfather with heightened senses- _did he not smell all the blood hid beneath my glamor?- _not my so-called best friends who slept _in the same dorm_, and certainly not my father.

Definitely not my father.

I returned to contemplating the letter- _my last letter- _in front of me, and the gleaming, silver dagger that Remus gave me. _Just in case, _he said. Well isn't this an interesting case.

_And I'll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom  
>I'm as green as the ring on my little, cold finger<br>I've never known the lovin' of a man  
>But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand<br>There's a boy here in town who says he'll love me forever  
>Who would have thought forever could be severed by<br>The sharp knife of a short life, well  
>I've had just enough time<br>_  
><em>So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls<br>What I never did is done_

I'd become fast friends with Draco that very first time in Madam Malkins. But when he found out who I was, he told me we had to keep our friendship secret, or someone could hurt either of us. So we did. Brilliantly, I might add.

He'd found out about the abuse, about my Uncle's little 'games' accidentally in second year, and ever since he'd held me as I cried from my nightmares, because my sobs woke everyone else in my dorm, and they told me to keep it down because 'some people actually had to study' and 'didn't have the world handed to them on a silver platter like a certain _Boy-Who-Lived_'.

He healed the marks that I didn't want Madam Pomphrey to know about, and taught me the intricacies of a full-body glamor and how to maintain it at all times.

It wasn't till mid-fifth year that I realized that I loved him. I'd suffered through two weeks of panicking before Draco cornered me and forced me to confess. And to my unending surprise, he kissed me, and told me he'd always loved me, and would never leave me.

And he understood that I wasn't ready for physical intimacy, maybe never, but he'd wait for me, he always would.

And I'd love him forever for that.

_A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar  
>They're worth so much more after I'm a goner<br>And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'  
>Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'<br>_

I'd found the chest in Vernon and Petunia's attic when I was six years old. My 'family' had left for Spain for three weeks and I'd been left alone to fend for myself, when I'd stumbled across the trap door in the ceiling, and the broken string hanging from it.

It'd taken some doing, but when I discovered the chest, and the items therein, it'd more than been worth the beatings when I'd been discovered.

I'd read that mother had loved someone name 'Severus Snape', and James was never my father. There was a whole box of letters that she'd written that he'd returned unopened.

But apparently my true heritage was supposed to have been revealed to him at the will reading, so I'd held on to the hope that he didn't know where I was. And when I found out that he was at Hogwarts, I'd decided that I was going to do whatever I could to get him to love me, to want to be my father.

I was going to tell him of my relatives, the very first adult I'd ever thought I might trust was him.

Stupid, naïve little Gryffindork.

It only took that first class for him to remind me of my Uncle, and everything he did after only cemented it in my mind. He hated me, never loved me, and never would.

Sometimes I'd hope that maybe- _just maybe- _he didn't know, that he'd love me and protect me if he _just knew._

But if there was one thing that _I _knew, it was that hope was worthless, pointless, and would only hurt you in the end. I'd learned not to expect anything; if you didn't expect kindness or mercy, you weren't disappointed when it never came. It was easier that way.

So much easier.

_If I die young, bury me in satin  
>Lay me down on a, bed of roses<br>Sink me in the river, at dawn  
>Send me away with the words of a love song<em>

So here I was, first day of 6th year, standing on the roof of the Astronomy Tower, alone- _always alone_- with a silver dagger glinting dully in the light of the moon.

I'd defeated Voldemort at the Ministry last year, but no one thanked me for that.

No, I was a self-centered, arrogant, stubborn bastard who led Neville and Sirius to their death.

Remus wouldn't let me go to Sirius after Bellabitch hexed him through the veil, but Neville already had a bone to pick with her, and tackled her, sending them both through the veil together. It had taken place in the span of four seconds… but it was enough to condemn me.

I knew that Remus blamed me for the death of his mate. He didn't speak to me, didn't write me, wouldn't even _see _me, since that horrific evening.

I'd begged him- _begged him- _not to send me back to the Dursleys. I'd apologized, a thousand thousand times… but he still looked at me with those pain and resentment-filled amber eyes.

And I knew- _I knew- _that there was no more hope. That no one really, truly loved me. That I was a curse on those around me, and whoever was touched by my _freakishness _would die. I wasn't cursed with a horrible life, no. I _was _the curse, and my life was my punishment.

But the final straw, was Draco and my fath- _Snape._

I'd been depressed, since my house had turned on me, and my godfather had died. I was barely functioning, but I was _trying. _And it was so _hard, _but I was really, truly trying.

But that wasn't enough for Draco. He'd apparently gotten tired of my 'sulking', and 'not-putting-out', and confronted me. On the last day of school, in the library, in front of _everyone._

The words wouldn't leave my mind, they just swirled and tainted everything, making my heart, my mind, my _soul _black and dark and just pure _agony._ Words of '_pathetic bastard' _and '_grow the fuck up' _and '_can't even say you were a good shag'._

But the clincher, the one that broke what was left of my heart was: '_maybe if I just asked your uncle, he could tell me.'_

I saw his face when he said that, and when he realized what he'd yelled, what he'd revealed, what he'd _betrayed;_ I watched the remorse and pain mar his perfect features. But it was too late.

Always too late.

And I'd ran, far away from his beauty, his honeyed words and broken promises. I'd ran and ran and ran… but it seemed that fate wasn't done with me. It seemed that there was one more part of me that hadn't died yet, and it was going to finish its job.

I collided with Snape, who caught me before I could fall. But when he saw who I was, he sneered and abruptly released me, causing me to stumble and fall anyway.

And he looked down at my tear-stained face and spat with such complete and utter contempt that I flinched, '_And the attention-seeking little Golden Boy once again proves that he thinks he's above authority and respect, just because he's a _hero _and schools out. Just like his bastard father.'_

And before I could stop myself, I blurted out the question that I'd refused to ask for fear of further pain.

'_What if I was _your _son… would you still hate me so much?'_

Snape didn't even hesitate.

'_You're a pathetic brat with no regard for your elders, who is a complete and utter failure in my class, who believes and expect the world handed to him on a golden platter, and who is completely and utterly worthless in all things except for the task that you completed this year. Even if you were my _son'- a sneer of disgust- '_I would have disowned you by now. I can think of nothing more horrible than to have the misfortune of being your _father.'

And that… that's when Harry Potter died. It didn't matter anymore that he'd been sent back to the Dursleys. It didn't matter that the torture had gotten worse, and that his Uncle had decided that he needed to 'earn his keep' and sold him out. It didn't matter that none of his friends wrote him, or that any letter Draco's owl Artemis sent was burned by his Uncle.

It never mattered._  
><em>

_Uh oh (uh, oh)  
>The ballad of a dove (uh, oh)<br>Go with peace and love  
>Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket<br>Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them, oh_

Laying here now, blooding pooling beneath my strangely numb body, dagger fallen from my limp right hand, and letter firmly grasped in my left, I wondered how long it would take before they realized I was gone, or when they found me. If ever.

But I realized… I didn't care. I was saving them one more time from the curse that was Harry Potter, and they weren't my concern anymore.

And now, for the first time in forever, with the smell of lilies surrounding me and with my dimming emerald eyes fixed upon Sirius, the dog-star, I smiled.

It was over, finally.

And I felt it, for the first time in my whole life.

Joy. Happiness. Peace. _  
><em>

_The sharp knife of a short life, well  
>I've had just enough time<em>

_So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls_


	2. The Tale of the Dragon's Defeat

Draco was worried. He'd barely had time to return to the dungeons to retrieve his trunk before heading down to the train, much less give his boyfriend a goodbye kiss before leaving for home.

He couldn't find Harry anywhere on the train, and the same with King's Cross Station. He'd sent letters almost daily, but either the owl returned with no letter- replied to or otherwise- or the owl didn't return at all. So far he'd sent almost fifty letters and eleven different owls, and still no response from Harry.

_A letter with no address  
>Burning a hole with words<br>Writ' in frantic distress  
>Storming my way through night<br>Gaze set on the light  
>Worry gripping my chest<br>Oh, God, no not my love!  
>He's no match for her tricks<br>The games she plays  
>Stay with me as I ride<em>

He was finally at the end of his rope. He'd informed his father that he was going to Diagon Alley for a gift for his secret lover, and left, glad to have avoided his mother.

But, in reality, he was going to Knockturn Alley to acquire an illegal Portkey, by any means necessary.

With his hood up and a light glamor disguising his features coupled with a mild notice-me-not charm, he was nearly invisible, and unrecognizable. He stopped by many of the shops that he'd visited in the past with his father, but since the death of '_Voldyshorts'- _Draco remembered Harry's nickname for old snake-face with a smirk- the Aurors had been cracking down, trying to flush any remaining Death Eaters out of Knockturn Alley; so many vendors had either destroyed or hidden any incriminating merchandise.

And that included Portkeys.

He was approaching the last shop on his list with a sinking heart, when the enchanted mirror that his father had insisted he keep on him at all times in case of emergency, chimed. It worked a lot like a two-way '_seal fone' _or something like that- Harry had mentioned it once.

Draco quickly ducked into a darkened alcove, pulling the mirror from his pocket and mumbling a _Silencio _and _Muffliato_, silencing his conversation and dulling the chatter and cackling from the other witches and wizards in the Alley.

With a whispered _'astrum'_ his father's face appeared in the glass, colors coming into focus as though a fog was being removed from the glass.

For a moment, Draco couldn't find words. His father looked _terrible. _His face was aged, haggard-looking. His perfect, long, sleek hair was slightly mussed, and his _eyes. _Those silver eyes, so like his own, were filled with sorrow and anguish. A sick feeling settled in his stomach.

"Dragon," His father rasped out, posture slumped. "It's Narcissa. I had to do it… I couldn't be with her anymore…"

"Father," Draco's voice trembled. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Lucius took a deep breath, expelling it forcefully. "It's Narcissa… Dragon, she hurt… she did- said- terrible things to your lover… To your Harry. She…"

But Draco heard no more of what his father might have said, for he immediately Apparated out of Knockturn Alley, despite the wards, and shattered the glass on the mirror.

* * *

><p>Lucius was concerned. Thankfully, not about the Dark Lord. No, young Harry Potter had taken care of that for him. He no longer had to worry that his son would be forced to take the mark, no longer needed to take anti-nausea potions before every Death Eater meeting so as not to vomit at the sight of all the <em>blood crying death<em>.

No, right now, he was concerned, very concerned, about his wife, Narcissa. He didn't love her, and he knew that she didn't love him. It was an arranged marriage, with a clause for an immediate divorce as soon as Draco- their heir- reached his majority.

Also, where as Lucius hated and loathed the Dark Lord- almost as much as his father, Abraxas Malfoy, who'd forced him and Severus to take the Mark- he knew that his wife was the complete opposite.

He knew that she thrived in his presence, tittered and simpered most unbecoming for a pureblood in almost sycophantic glee whenever he acknowledged her. Lucius had refused to sleep with her- even for mutual pleasure like they used to- since the Dark Lord had returned. He didn't want to be inside _anything _that that _monster _had been inside of.

So, knowing how much Narcissa adored, worshiped, _loved _Lord Voldemort, he found it disconcerting that she was almost… happy these last few weeks since Draco had returned from school. No, not happy, more like maliciously pleased. Lucius knew that it didn't bode well.

He knew if it had something to do with the Dark Lord, that Narcissa would tell him soon. He'd been perfect, immaculate, in keeping his overwhelming disgust of the snake-faced bastard a secret, and so he was often able to assist in certain situations or missions that the Dark Lord had assigned Narcissa; and either rescue or give an easy death to the poor victims. Because if it was one thing Narcissa loved, it was a good gossip, and she could never keep a secret for long.

He decided to find out what was happening today. He'd given Draco permission to go to Diagon Alley, to buy a gift for his 'secret lover'. Lucius had allowed Draco to keep his secret, knowing that it wasn't fear of _him _that he didn't tell, but fear of Narcissa. He hadn't informed her of Draco's plans.

"Dearest Narcissa, you've been looking uncommonly pleased lately. Perhaps you're a little bit… too pleased, given the death of our Lord." Lucius drawled, not looking up from the Daily Prophet, but the false warning and threat lay beneath the words. If there was anything Lucius could do, it was manipulate with his silver tongue.

"Oh no!" Narcissa sincerely, vehemently denied. Just as he knew she would. "Of course not! How could you think that?"

Lucius raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Hmm… then perhaps you might elaborate. For the life of me, I cannot understand, if that were true, what could explain your current mood."

Narcissa seemed to contemplate a moment, then, "I'll show you. I know that you'll appreciate what I've done to keep the bloodline pure, but I'm just not certain how you'll take the knowledge of our son's… dalliances."

Lucius just continued to look at her, silently prompting- commanding- her to continue. He didn't allow his features to show his shock and curiosity. Narcissa just sighed, before smirking.

"I found Draco's journal, and I decided to read his most recent entry, to see if he had a significant other, and if I'd be planning a wedding soon." Lucius nodded, motioning for her to get on with it, even while he inwardly winced in sympathy for his son. No boy should have to go through the humiliation of having their _mother _read their secrets. "But what I found… disturbed me."

Lucius was shocked, though he showed nothing. "What did you discover, Narcissa?"

She sighed again, before meeting my eyes. "Draco's been dating Mr. Potter, _that filthy half-blood bastard,_" Lucius almost flinched at the vehemence and _hatred _in her voice, "since about the middle of fifth year. And they've been close friends since their first."

Lucius blinked in shock, unable to hide or needing to fake it. He had _not _seen that coming. "When did you discover this? And how would that explain your recent mood?"

This time, she grinned, and Lucius inwardly shuddered. "I found this all out a few days before end of term, when I'd visited Slytherin Dungeons to see how Draco was holding up since the death of our Lord. But, dearest, that's not all that I discovered. The half-blood has told quite a few secrets to our son, and I can only guess that Draco was collecting information to give to our Lord in time." Lucius highly doubted this. He wondered how Narcissa could be so blind, before deciding to count the small blessings.

"It turns out the great 'Harry Potter: Gryffindor Hero, Golden Boy, Savior of the Light, Boy-Who-Lived' was nothing but a common whore, who couldn't even defend himself against a Muggle."

Lucius froze, throat dry, heart heavy. _It couldn't… she couldn't mean what I…_

"And how are these claims founded?" Lucius managed to ask, amazed that his voice didn't waver or crack.

She chuckled, a horrible, evil sound that gave Lucius the feeling of being drenched in ice cold water- or walking through a ghost. "That muggle family, the one that the old decrepit fool put him with for his protection? He's been beaten and whipped and tortured since he was left there. Oh, and raped. I think Draco's journal said that the first time was at seven years old. And the icing on the cake, he didn't even know he was a wizard until his letter, and lived in a cupboard under the stairs until that point too."

Lucius couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't _breath_e. It couldn't be, someone would have noticed, helped, no one should be able to treat a child like that, not a wizard child, and most _certainly _not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Saved him…

But Narcissa was standing, talking again, and Lucius had to forcefully bring himself back to the present.

"So, like a true Black, I planned revenge. Cruel, dark, untraceable revenge. I retrieved one of our spare polyjuice potions, gave Draco special permission to visit Hogsmead, snuck into the school, and, well… come, let me show you."

It was with stiff, robotic motions that Lucius followed his wife, down down down into their dungeons and behind a secret wall. There, was a dark crystal pensieve with memories floating in the clear, sparkling liquid. Lucius knew that this was all he would need to incriminate Narcissa with the Aurors. He subtly pressed a warning button in his pocket to alert the Head of the Auror Department. Knowing them, they'd be here in about a half-an-hour. More than enough time to find out what Narcissa had done to Harry Potter.

Narcissa sifted through the memories with her wand, until she found the correct one. She enlarged it, before beckoning Lucius closer. And, with no further ado, they both sunk into the pensieve. Narcissa, gleeful, but unknowing of the trap, the betrayal, that awaited her when she returned. And Lucius, uneasy, worried, and oblivious to the fact that he'd return with a heavy heart and an urgent, un-Malfoyish urge to be sick.

There was the sick, swirling motion of too many colors not in focus around them, before they steadied and were back on solid ground. Lucius looked around. They were in Hogwarts, around the corner from the Library. Everything was a little brighter, a tad sharper, the properties of a memory.

And there, with a journal in his hands, reading fervently, was Draco Malfoy. No, that glint in his eyes told otherwise, that cold, unfeeling, calculating stare and cruel, unmistakable smirk. It was Narcissa, masquerading as his son. As Harry Potter's secret boyfriend… Lucius suddenly had a sick, sick idea of what Narcissa had done.

"Now watch." Narcissa whispered, forgetting that no one could see them, eyes alight with the same insane glee that was so reminiscent of Bellatrix that Lucius took a step back. Narcissa didn't notice.

Lucius could only watch as Draycissa pocketed the journal.

_Your words may have swayed him before  
>But I'll fight to help him ignore<br>Every word that you say  
>That masks your intent to betray<br>_

Every word of poison that dripped from the bitch that held his son's face was like a mortal wound to Lucius. When he'd asked her, he'd never thought it was something like this…

"_Stop moping around already! So what, you killed the Dark Lord, and now you think you can just go around putting on airs? Stupid worthless whore!"_

The other students could only watch in shock in gleeful interest- damn gossip mill- as a horrified, pained, _breaking _Harry Potter could only watch his boyfriend spew such vitriol.

"_The great 'Harry Potter', Boy-Who-Lived-to-Kill-His-Family. Or, rather, Boy-Whore-Who-Lived."_

"B-but… I've never… we've never… wh-what…" Tears, agony-filled crystalline tears welled up in those emerald orbs, and Lucius thought his heart might burst.

Then, the damning, crushing, shattering words…

"_Of course not me, famous Harry Potter wouldn't dare let his own _boyfriend _fuck him… but apparently he'll let his uncle. Hey, maybe I should ask him for tips."_

Any doubt that this might not be _his _Draco vanished in the wake of knowledge that only the two of them possessed. As the whispers and gasps began, Harry's broken sob echoed through the near-silence of the library as he took off down the corridor, his pain and agony and defeat running in twin rivers down his pale face.

Lucius turned, eyes slightly misted, believing the terrible memory to be over and preparing to exit the pensieve. But Narcissa grabbed his arm, malicious gleam in her eyes and a cruel smirk upon her lips.

Lucius didn't think he'd ever seen a more hideous creature.

"It's not over." She, again, whispered. "Listen now, for the icing on the cake. My brilliant plan might not have worked, had his '_friends_' not have already done half the job for me."

Draycissa, with the same smirk upon its face, just turned and exited the library. But as it was preparing to leave, the other two/thirds of the Golden Trio stopped it.

Lucius watched as his son's doppelganger tensed in preparation for a fight, but they just halted in front of it and gazed at him in contemplation.

"Was it true?" Ron asked, surprisingly calm. "Everything you said, was it true?"

It nodded, a confused look in its eyes. "Every word."

Shockingly, Weasley snorted. "Knew it. Fucking slut. Bloody fag enjoys it up the ass."

Draycissa's mouth was open in surprise. "Wh-what?"

Granger nodded. "We're glad you got through to him Malfoy. We've been saying much the same thing, but he's being an attention seeking bitch again and it's been nigh impossible to get through to the bastard. And to hear that he's a fucking fag as well, well, let's just say, we have no reason to befriend him anymore."

Weasley confirmed this. "We've got all the fame out of the whore that we could, and now our job is done. He's killed the Dark Lord, and any further contact with the man-bitch will just be detrimental to our futures. Besides, he's risked our lives nearly every year, and it's a bloody hazard to be around the bastard."

"We're getting out while we still can." Grang- the Mudblood agreed, a calm, unrepentant look upon her face, as though she _hadn't _just spent the last five years of school manipulating and using her friend.

Weasley clapped Draycissa- who was still stupified- on the shoulder. "Nice work Malfoy. Don't get used to it, this is the first and last time I'll complement you." He gave a grin and a wink and make Lucius sick to his stomach, no remorse or sorrow upon the bastard's freckled face.

They both waved and headed down the corridor, missing the blooming, evil grin on Draycissa's face. A cold, dark chuckle echoed down the corridor, chasing Lucius as the memory ended and everything faded into swirls of black, gold, and silver.

There was a whooshing sound and a sharp tug, and Lucius slipped out of the pensieve. He collapsed to his knees and promptly lost his lunch all over the shoes of one Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Kingsley _scourgified _his shoes and the floor before kneeling down beside Lucius, holding back his hair and helping him out of the room, the shrieks of the ambushed Narcissa and the yells of spells from the Auror troop fading behind them.

After Narcissa was stunned and bound, it took five glasses of brandy and three broken tumblers before he could tell the whole story to the Head Auror.

It was a green, sick Shacklebolt that left Malfoy Manor, incriminating pensieve shrunk and preserved in his pocket.

And it was a haggard, haunted, remorseful Lucius that pulled out his two-way mirror, and contacted his son with a hoarsely whispered _laurus; _though he didn't feel very victorious. *

_In this letter I hold from true beauty untold  
>Sealed and coated with fear<br>Love, she's here for my soul, come_

_You're my only hope  
>I will save you, my dear<em>

After an hour explanation, a half-dozen interruptions and denials, and a trip into the copied memory, Lucius was sitting on the floor holding his sobbing son.

He couldn't help thinking it had been to long since he'd held his child, and wishing that it were under different- better- circumstances.

"I couldn't… I didn't know… Merlin, that'll _kill _him… and his uncle… his uncle…" Draco sobbed brokenly.

Lucius grabbed both sides of his son's face and turned it to face him, using his sleeves to wipe the tears from Draco's face. "What about his uncle, Dragon?"

Another shuddering cry. "H-harry said that… that his u-uncle was gonna… gonna s-start sell-selling h-him this s-summer… and I can't contact him and all the owl aren't returning and I can't get to him and all the Portkeys are gone and I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!"

Draco cried/screamed this last part and buried himself into his father again, missing the horrified look upon his face.

Lucius could only hold his son and rock them back and forth in front of the dwindling fire. And, not for the first time in his life, Lucius didn't know what to do.

_Oh, Father, my task I may dread  
>But as ransom, take me instead<br>_

_Take heart now, my son  
>Fear not my dragon, for we shall overcome<em>

In the following weeks the two of them did everything that they could to find and gain custody of the Boy-Who-Lived. But even though it was proven that Lucius was a spy for the light, no one was willing to just forget decades of prejudice, and the two blonds were thwarted at every turn.

They had no choice but to wait for school to start again, hoping that Harry wouldn't be too broken, hoping that Draco could find and explain everything, hoping that they weren't too late.

Lucius planned to accompany his son to Hogwarts and assist in the explanations, in case Harry tried to make a run for it.

Neither of them could have been prepared for the drama that would enfold on that night… nor what they would find at the end of it.

_Your words may have swayed him before  
>But I died so he could have more<br>The life that he now finds in me  
>Is the tale of the dragon's defeat<em>

* * *

><p><em>* laurus is latin for 'victorious'<em>

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thank you so much for the encouragement for this story. I had no idea that it would garner such an enthusiastic response. So, just for you, my wonderful fans, I'm going to continue this story. There will be at least two more chapters. I hope that everyone enjoys this explanation. No one commented on the fact that I'd mentioned Draco being willing to wait for Harry, yet later in the same year completely shattering him. The best explanation was a Draco doppelganger. I decided to go with a good Lucius this time, since it's not all that common, and I like him better than Narcissa. Keep up the reviews! They feed the steadily burning fire of inspiration within me! xD_


	3. Know That You're Alive

_(Whispered) Will the situation bring you around?_

_The black of night is closing all around you_  
><em>The crippling fear moves in as they strap you down<em>  
><em>Will you let 'em only get the best of you<em>  
><em>Or will the situation bring you around<em>  
><em>When the blood stains dry<em>  
><em>Will it bring you around<em>  
><em>Or will it pass you by<em>

The room was dark, the black heavier than that of empty rooms and forgotten doors; of '_turn off the lights as you leave the room, dear'. _No, this was a black, a darkness, heavy with intention – the torches deliberately unlit, the fireplace purposefully cold, and furnishings as sparse and dark as the rare wild Onyx Unicorns that wandered obsidian nights.

They were as dark, as intimidating, as cold as the man who inhabited them; a tumbler of brandy, the man's pale face, and his bloodshot eyes being the only color in the gloomy, dank dungeon quarters.

Severus Snape raised his fifth glass to his lips, beginning once again the long process of drinking himself unconscious, another night in a series of sleepless nights; haunted by accusing and hurt emerald eyes and broken promises.

His eyes stare unblinkingly upon a box sitting innocently upon the coffee table in front of him. Unassuming, plain, rough and uneven – a precious gift of Onychinus Wood, hand-carved by a shy Slytherin for his Gryffindor love, a white lily painted with an untrained hand upon the lid, pulsing faintly. And yet, the dark man pierced it with his onyx gaze, looking as though it was the source of all his troubles, the most horrible and terrible thing to ever darken his chambers; and yet also as though it was the most precious gem, a rarity that had never and would never exist again, and thus to be cherished.

For Severus, the box was all these things, and so, so much more.

_Right now you're bruised and bleeding  
>I see the hurt within your eyes<br>I know your pain is for a reason  
>You need to feel just to know that you're alive<em>

And, like every such night since the nightmares had begun, although he tried to fight it, the memories returned, tearing through his occlumency shields like they were nothing more than cheap parchment.

_~~Flashback~~_

_Severus sat nervously by the swings, shabbily-wrapped package clutched in his hands. He'd sent a message to Lily using their special, charmed journals; asking her to see him at the 'place where they first met'. Although only fifteen, Severus had a good idea of courtship rituals from his mother, and hoped that the significance of the date and place would appeal to Lily._

_So lost in his own thoughts and worries, he didn't notice the aforementioned redhead sneak up behind him._

"_SEVERUS!" Lily screamed, tackling him off the swings and onto the dry ground, giggling madly._

"_Flower!" Severus yelped, twisting and landing on his back with a grunt, curling protectively around his gift. "Careful! You almost broke it!" He quickly stood and ran his hands all over it, shaking it lightly and sighing in relief when he heard no loose parts._

_Lily looked up at him curiously, still laying on her stomach on the ground and resting her chin in her palms. She cocked her head to the side. "What is that Severus? Who's it for?"_

_There was definitely no mistaking it now, Severus was _extremely _nervous. "It's… it's for…" He cleared his throat. "It's for you, Lily-Flower."_

_Her jaw dropped. "For me? But… it's not my birthday… it's not a holiday…" A furrow of confusion appeared in between her eyebrows, and Severus just wanted to kiss it away._

_He cleared his throat again. "No, it's…" He flushed lightly and decided that it was too awkward to be standing over her, but rather than pulling her up, he lowered himself down, sitting before her in the dirt. He took a deep breath, going over his pre-written speech in his mind. "Okay, here goes. Please don't interrupt?" He waited for her hesitant, but confirmatory nod, before continuing._

"_You are my best friend- first, foremost, and truest friend. From the day we met – when you jumped off the swings and floated to the ground, all flowing, flaming hair and emerald, glowing eyes and sparkling laughter – you had me enchanted, all without raising a wand. When you smiled at me, when you became my friend and gave this dark, snarky wizard a chance, you bound me to you for eternity._

"_So, here goes," Looking into Lily's startled, captivating, teary eyes, Severus held out the wrapped gift; suddenly feeling as though it was small and insignificant in comparison to the ethereal beauty before him. "Lily Ann Evans, I, Severus Tobias Snape, hereby declare my intention to court you, until such a time as I can take you as my beloved wife. Please accept this gift – the first of many – as an acceptance and first step towards this future. Will you, Lily Ann Evans, take this as a token of my love, my promise, my eternity? To be my soul-friend, my fiancé, and one day, my wife?"_

_Severus stood there, heart beating frantically, arm outstretched with the gift in his hand, said hands trembling minutely. Meanwhile, Lily just stared at him, mouth agape, not breathing._

_Suddenly, so quickly that Severus barely had time to set aside the gift and catch her, she flung himself into his arms, fluttering small, innocent kisses all over his face and murmuring over and over, "Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes…"_

_Severus beamed, smile lighting up his features with joy and delight. He shifted her into his lap before handing her the gift. "Open it," he murmured into her red tresses, heart filled to overflowing._

_He grinned as she tore into it with abandon; before his smile shrunk and became small and insecure, wondering if she'd really love it as much as he hoped she would._

_But he needn't have worried, for she gasped in obvious delight once the box was revealed; clumsily carved, but infinitely precious, made of the rare wood that it was. Her hands flitted over the wood in reverence before opening it gently. She gasped again and reached into it, pulling out a poem written in flowing cursive upon lily-white, acromantula-silk parchment._

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._

_I love thee to the depth and breadth and height_

_My soul can reach . . ._

_Your love lifts my soul from the body to the sky_

_And you lift me up out of the two worlds_

_I want your sun to reach my raindrops,_

_So your heat can raise my soul upward like a cloud_

_Between the hands, between the brows,_

_Between the lips of Love-Lily_

_A spirit is born whose birth endows_

_My blood with fire to burn through me_

_Who breathes upon my gazing eyes_

_Who laughs and murmurs in mine ear_

_At whose least touch my colour flies_

_And whom my life grows faint to hear_

_Within the voice, within the heart_

_Within the mind of Love-Lily_

_A spirit is born who lifts apart_

_Her tremulous wings and looks at me_

_Who on my mouth her finger lays_

_And shows, while whispering lutes confer_

_The Eden of Love's watered ways_

_Whose winds and spirits worship her_

_Brows, hands, and lips, heart, mind, and voice_

_Kisses and words of Love-Lily_

_Oh! Bid me with your joy rejoice_

_Till riotous longing rest in me!_

_Ah! Let not hope be still distraught_

_But find in her its gracious goal_

_Whose speech Truth knows not from her thought_

_Nor Love her body from her soul_

_-My Love, My Life, My Promise_

_Your Severus _

_Tears streamed down Lily's face as she read the poem. "Oh Merlin…" She whispered. She turned around in Severus' arms and kissed him chastely on the lips. "Dear Merlin Sev… yes, now and forever, yes!"_

_Severus took the poem from her and placed it back in the box, shutting it gently. He then wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close._

"_It's charmed." He whispered. "I have the other one, completely identical. All you have to do it put your letter in it and say _Diligo_, and it'll immediately reappear in my box, so that we can communicate between Gryffindor Tower and Slytherin Dungeons. The same goes with mine. The lily on the lid will glow until one of us retrieves the letter, and no one but ourselves will be able to open them. It was quite the complicated bit of charms work, but it was well worth it."_

_The smile that she graced him with was worth all the months of research and charms applications, all the teasing and pranking he'd received for his Ravenclaw tendencies, all the running he'd had to do from Potter, Black, and his cronies._

_She kissed him lightly again, whispering against his lips, "I love you Severus, now and forever."_

_~~Flashback~~_

From then on, it had been nothing short of a fairytale. Yes, they'd had to deal with James fawning over her every step; but although he'd matured some and she'd forgiven him, they'd never became anything other than friends.

At least, that's what Severus had thought.

But it wasn't even six months after their secret wedding that he'd returned from a death eater meeting to find that she'd run off with Potter, leaving him kneeling in the dust, sobbing, heart shattered beyond repair.

In a fit of anger, he'd thrown the box in a chest, along with everything left from their time together – letters, photos, _sheets –_ and locked it away; sealing off his heart and feelings behind a stone cold mask at the same time. Never to return.

Until today.

_The days have turned to weeks but it is not over  
>The bandages rewind you to where you've been<br>These memories will remind you  
>When life takes you out, will it bring you around<br>When it's said and done, will it bring you around  
>What will you become?<br>_

He remembered that fateful day, the very last time he'd allowed his heart to be hurt, to be exposed.

That day at Godric's Hollow.

~~_Flashback~~_

_He hadn't been present at the meeting where the Dark Lord had informed them of his planned attack on Godric's Hollow. It had been a frantic Floo-call from Lucius that had revealed the monster's intentions. He'd been apparating there before Lucius' head had even disappeared from his hearth._

_But it had been too late._

_He'd barely paused when he'd seen the house, a gaping hole in the side of the building, before he was bursting in the front door. He barely even spared a glance for Potter's dead body – buried under debris and the shattered remains of the front door – only refraining from hexing him because of the wailing of a child upstairs._

_He vanished the debris blocking the doorway before stepping in, the child's cries abruptly silencing. The sight Severus was met with would forever be burned into his memory, connected with feelings of pain and heartbreak – feelings he was sure he wasn't able to feel anymore._

_There, red hair spilling around her like some sick parody of blood, was Lily Potter nee Snape nee Evans. Wand still loosely clasped in her hand – _ten and a quarter inches long, made of willow, swishy, excellent for charms_; Severus remembered that day in Diagon Alley, when they'd picked up their school supplies for Hogwarts, laughing and celebrating the beginning of their exciting new life, _together_ – Severus collapsed next to her prone form, gathering it in his arms, he sobbed into her hair, remembering a similar time, so long ago, where he'd kneeled in the dust and held her in his arms._

_There was a small sniffle and a shaky "_Mummy_?" and Severus startled, looking up into the confused, teary eyes of his love. The eyes of his love, in a cherub's face. He'd forgotten all about Harry, and even though he knew he should hate the spawn of Potter and his Lily's betrayal, he couldn't stop his breath hitching at the sight._

_Black, curly hair framed an angelic face; cupid's bow lips, Lily's button nose, and sparkling, vivid emerald eyes. The image was marred by an inflamed, bleeding, red cut in the shape of a lightning bolt on the baby's forehead. The child clutched his mother's finger, shaking it and looking up at him with such confusion and pain that it made Severus' shattered heart ache._

"_Mummy?" Harry whimpered, asking, begging, why his mother wasn't waking up. He sobbed quietly, somehow knowing that his mother wasn't going to hear him, wasn't ever going to wake up again. "Mummy…"_

_Severus shifted Lily until he could pick up Harry, holding both of them in his lap, rocking slightly; wishing that Harry had been his, hating that the only time that he could hold both his greatest desires in his arms was when Lily was dead, and this dream was no longer his to own._

_Abruptly, there was a cold gust of wind in the room, and Severus watched, shocked, as an ethereal mist formed, taking the shape of – Severus breathed out, "Lily…"_

"Yes, my Severus_." Lily smiled slightly, looking at him as though she'd never left, as though she'd never betrayed him. "_I do not have much time, the killing curse generally destroys the magical core, leaving nothing left for the person to use to return as a ghost. But I have enough energy to do this_."_

"_MUMMY!" Harry cried, toothy grin on his face and small hands reaching for his mother, wanting to be picked up and held. He babbled happily._

"Yes baby, it's mummy_." Tears were now on Lily's face before she turned back to Severus. "_Listen Severus, I want you to promise me something. Please, no matter what happens, I want you to protect our little Harry here. Please, Sev, my last request. Promise me this, please_."_

_Knowing what she wanted, he nodded and raised his wand, uncaring of the tears on his face or the lump in his throat that kept him from speaking; hungrily taking in every feature of his love that he could, while he could._

_She smiled and placed one ghostly hand on his wand and the other on her son. "_Thank you_." She whispered, and then leaned forward. Severus briefly felt Lily's cold lips on his and a haunting whisper in his ear – '_Read the letter_…' – before she was gone; leaving a golden chord binding him to the once-again sobbing Harry before fading, leaving a weight upon his heart._

_The moment was broken, however, by the sound of a flying motorcycle and the rumbling shouts of Hagrid. Knowing that he couldn't be found here, as both of them thought him to be a Death Eater, he carefully placed the baby in his- amazingly- still erect crib. He picked up a stuffed, slightly charred stag from the floor and handed it to the sniffling child. Harry clutched it tightly to him, mumbled, "Pwongs…" before lying down and falling asleep, physically and magically exhausted; tear stains on his cherubic face._

_Knowing he hadn't much time, given Black and Hagrid's shocked and heartbroken cries upon Potter's body, he whipped out his wand and whispered, "_Accio Severus' Letter_."_

_But nothing came. _

_Having no more time to search as he heard thundering footsteps make their way upstairs, Severus gave one last glance towards the sleeping child, then turned on the spot, soft pop of apparation masked by Black's curse as he tripped in his haste up the steps._

_He left, never intending to return, abandoning his love, his promise, his eternity._

_And Harry._

_~~Flashback~~_

After that night, spent demolishing his apartment and drinking himself unconscious, he regained some perspective.

He'd, once again, been blinded by her beauty and allowed himself to he tied to _Potter's _spawn. To _protect _him. Well, there was nothing in there about caring for him.

He'd automatically assumed that Lily had either never written a letter, or it had been destroyed in the resultant blast of the killing curse. His mind never strayed to a locked away ebony box- lily pulsing.

Dumbledore told him, even though he refused to ask, that Harry was safe and sound at his aunt's home. _Protected _there, from the remaining death eaters, were the exact words.

Well, that fulfilled any compulsion of the bond right there.

He resolutely didn't think about Tuney's revulsion to all things magic, about those viridian eyes growing up unknowing of anything of his heritage.

His job was just to make sure the brat didn't kill himself, nothing else mattered.

The ten years that went by until the Potter brat came to Hogwarts, Severus spent obsessing over Lily's betrayal and Potter's last, cruelest prank; allowing it to fester until it required no effort on his part at all to ridicule and berate and insult the monster – the fucking carbon-copy of Potter.

He just had to be sure not to look in those hurt, betrayed emerald eyes. After a while, even those didn't bother him anymore.

At least, that's what he told himself.

_Right now you're bruised and bleeding  
>I see the hurt within your eyes<br>I know your pain is for a reason  
>You need to feel just to know that you're alive<em>

Yet here he was, staring at the obsidian box, once again cursing Potter in his head.

Last term, Potter Junior had finally managed to defeat the Dark Lord, taking out his pathetic dogfather and the bumbling fool Longbottom at the same time.

He didn't care about the subsequent depression that Potter went through, nor the apparent shunning of his friends and the wolf. It mattered little to him about the ridiculous argument between Draco and Potter that he'd heard whispers about in the halls.

Potter had fucking survived, and Severus' job was done.

He'd been walking the halls, thinking of his own time in fifth year, where the fear of the Dark Lord was beginning to become real, and where the only thing keeping him from joining and killing his abusive Muggle father was the emerald-eyed witch who'd run into his arms and kissed him, right here –

His thoughts were cut off as something crashed into him before collapsing to the floor. He'd looked down and, for the first time in years, made eye contact with the teary eyes of his love.

Furious that he'd been caught during such an emotionally vulnerable moment, and by _those _eyes in _his _face, the words of hatred and vitriol fell from his tongue without a second thought.

All he felt, fresh as though newly made, was the pain of what he'd lost, what had been torn from him, personified in this pathetic, thrice-damned brat lying on the ground before him.

Severus saw red; and he wanted nothing more than to _hurt._

So, when that confusing, unexpected question shot from those still-cupid's bow lips; touching that place within him that had once wished that Potter _had _been his and Lily's son, he didn't even think; just saying the words most meant to bring pain and crush the bastard.

He hadn't felt anything as Potter had stood and run away, the tears that Severus was no longer able to shed pouring from those broken eyes.

_Right now you're bruised and bleeding  
>I see the hurt within your eyes<br>I know your pain is for a reason  
>You need to feel just to know that you're alive<em>_  
><em>

But ever since, he'd been haunted by the bond and Lily's accusing, viridian eyes.

Every night, he'd been unable to sleep, going through more scotch than he had during both wars combined. But to no avail.

He found himself strangely exposed, and had had the sudden urge to open that previously forgotten trunk. He's shed tears he'd thought he didn't know how to shed anymore, as he'd looked over each photo; as he'd smelled those sheets that still held traces of her perfume; as he'd… come across the black box that had started it all.

He heart had stopped when he'd seen the faintly glowing, pulsing lily; charms fading after so many years.

And that was how he'd found himself here, frozen, staring at the box that he'd Lily's last letter to him.

Finally, he mustered up the courage to down his two fingers of scotch before opening the lid and extracting the letter.

The parchment was slightly yellowed with age, stiff and brittle, and Severus handled it with care. He looked at the envelope and blinked in shock. It was dated roughly a week after Lily had left him. Looking back, Severus realized that he'd stored away all of Lily's things three days after her betrayal, and warded against any owls from her around the same time. He hadn't wanted to hear any half-cocked excuse that would just tear him apart even further. The thought of Potter gloated had him warding against _all _owls, and only his most trusted could contact him via Floo.

The fact that he didn't have many 'most trusted', coupled with the overwhelming depression, turned him into a snarky, pale-skinned recluse; seldom wandering out into the sunshine that was no longer for him.

Breath hitching, Severus opened the envelope and took out the letter, wondering what was so important that ghost-Lily had used up precious energy to inform him of the letter.

Severus never realized that, the moment that he broke the seal, was the moment that his life shattered.

_The days have turned to weeks but it is not over  
>The bandages rewind you to where you've been<br>These memories will remind you  
>When life takes you out, will it bring you around<br>When it's said and done, will it bring you around  
>What will you become?<br>_

'_My Dearest Love,' _Severus read, onyx eyes drinking every word while his heart dully throbbed with pain:

'_I'm sorry you had to find out this way. Dumbledore told me that rumors had gotten out that you'd married me, a muggle-born witch, and that if they proved to be true, the Dark Lord would kill you._

'_We made a plan, me, Dumbledore, and James, to fabricate a marriage between the two of us. We took photos, faked marriage certificates, and informed all our friends. Finally, though, we were forced to go into hiding, for we discovered that there was a spy for Voldemort in our midst. We don't know who yet, but we had no choice._

_You were on a mission, and I waited as long as I could, honestly I did love, but we had no choice, and had to leave. We had to go to extreme measures – using the Fidelius with Peter (because, honestly, who'd really suspect him?) – in order to make sure we were never found. I'm sure you're wondering, though, why it was so crucial that we went into hiding._

_You see, my love, a few weeks ago, only days after you'd left, I started getting sick. After flooing Dumbledore, it was discovered that I was pregnant. Our child is the prophesy child._

_But Severus, you're going to be a Daddy! Wow, isn't that surreal?_

_It's going to be a boy, I can already tell. I remember how you'd said that, if you ever had a boy, you'd want to name him after your grandfather on your mother's side, Harrison._

_Harrigan Severus Snape-Evans, or just Harry. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?_

_I'm sorry I couldn't contact you sooner, but I'd packed our Onyx-Lily Boxes in a rush and had forgotten where it was until I'd finished unpacking, just this morning._

_I tried sending you letters via owl a couple days after we left, but they all come back unopened. Did you ward against any owls from me? I truly am sorry love… I'm keeping all the letters for you, so that you can have a weekly update on how the pregnancy goes along with any pranks I've played on Potter (you honestly didn't think that I wasn't going to use this opportunity to the fullest? Pregnant, off-limits Evans versus Arrogant, Toe-Rag Potter… EPIC! Despite recent relations, I haven't forgiven him for all he did to you during school. Sucker isn't going to know what hit him xD). I'll keep them until you can find it in yourself to forgive me for my hasty and harmful actions._

_I remember that you said that you'd always keep your box beside you, so I hope that at least this letter finds you well, and that you'll forgive me for running off with 'toe-rag' Potter, of all people, after you know the full story. I understand if it takes a while, and I shall await your reply with trepidation._

_Just remember, I love you my Severus, my handsome snake. And don't ever, ever forget it._

_Forever Yours; For an Eternity and More,_

_Your Love-Lily_

Severus felt like his heart was breaking all over again. The letter fell from his nerveless hands. It couldn't be… no, no she was lying… the brat looks _identical _to Potter!

He rummaged through the box and came across another letter. He looked at the date, it was one day after July 31st; Ha-_Potter's _birthday.

He opened it, nearly ripping the envelope in his haste.

'_My Eternal Love,_

_I'm guessing that you haven't read my previous letter yet. Because, as much as I've known you to hold a grudge, you never would have missed your son's birth, if you had known._

_Don't worry, I forgive you, and I'm sending this to you to tell you of what you missed… and what we're going to have to do._

_Just like you, little Harrigan is _anything _but patient. Once he'd decided to come, he was _coming_. The birth took only two hours – two of the most painful and physically draining hours of my life. But it was well worth it. (Not to mention, I spent every minutes cursing James; thought you'd like that)_

_Harry's got ebony black, slightly curly hair, just like you. Oddly enough, though, there a small streak of red hair on the right side, darker than mine own. He's got my nose, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear, but your eyebrows and long fingers. His lips are mine, and Dumbledore cast a charm that will allow us to see Harry's true eye-color._

_Merlin, Sev, they're gorgeous. They're the same emerald as mine, except there's flecks of onyx throughout, along with a very thin black ring around the outside of the iris. They're captivating, and when he gets older we'll be beating off the girls – or boys (*wink wink*) – with a stick._

_I don't think I've ever seen a more perfect child, Severus; he's an exact mix of the two of us._

_Well, right now he is. Since we're under the pretense that he'd mine and James', I'll be casting some charms on him soon to mask his appearance. They'll have to be strong, so that a Finite won't work on them. I've created a fail-safe so that only you can remove them; so that neither me nor James can be Imperio-ed to do so, and so that if anything happens to me and James, you can still remove them. But don't wait too long, as they're strong enough to last for several years – maybe even a decade and a half, give or take a few years. _

_I hope that this horrible war is over soon, so that I can be reunited with you again. Again, I hope this letter finds you well, and I love you, and always will._

_Gotta go, Harry's waking up, demanding to be fed. Merlin Sev, it's almost like he's channeling your spirit. As soon as I walk in the door he stops crying and fixes me with this demanding glare, and it's all I can do not to break out laughing (although James has no such qualms)._

_Forever Your Love,_

_Lily Ann Snape_

"NO!" Severus screamed, throwing the letter onto the coffee table and backing away from it, as though it might attack him.

He backed himself into a corner, clutching his head as Harry's tears, his own abhorrent actions, his hate-filled prejudices all flashing together with Lily's accusing eyes.

A voice in his head, _'He was my son too Severus,'_ and the Potion Master screams; and everything glass in his quarters shatters.

_Right now you're bruised and bleeding  
>I see the hurt within your eyes<br>I know your pain is for a reason  
>You need to feel just to know that you're alive<em>

He sat at the head table, awaiting the arrival of the students, red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes masked with a glamour. He doesn't give a second thought to the strangely silent and haggard looking Lucius sitting beside him; his eyes scan the children as they come in, but he doesn't see Harry.

He doesn't know if Harry knows that he's his son, or if it was just a random question. But even if he'd somehow managed to find out during the previous year, it wasn't as if he'd leave his loving, doting relatives to live with dungeon bat, snarky bastard Severus Snape.

He doesn't notice that Lucius is doing the same, and is just as concerned at the sixth year's absence; along with his godson's frequent and panicked glances towards the Gryffindor table.

Severus doesn't think that it's anything life-threatening, that Potter's probably just planning his newest prank; but that doesn't stop a little niggling feeling in the back of his mind that says that it's more than that… that there's something that he's deliberately missing.

But Severus isn't able to just leave the feast. And he nearly curses Dumbledore stupid when he demands his presence at a teacher meeting in regards to Mr. Potter's apparent absence.

It isn't until they're ensconced in Dumbledore's office and Lucius stands and clears his throat, and starts to speak, and Severus realizes just how much he was wrong. His eyes grow wider with every pained word from Lucius' mouth.

"What do you mean, about what Narcissa said; about Harry's uncle? Surely that can't be correct, just baseless rumors to turn everyone against him." Severus tries to rationalize it, totally unprepared for Draco to blow up at him.

"You _bastard!_ Yes it's true, _everything's _true. His uncle's been beating him since he was dropped on their doorstep, and been forcing him to work as a _house elf_ since he could barely _walk_! The first time he was fucking _raped_ was when he was seven years old; and his _uncle_ started using a whip, instead of just a belt like before, since he was _nine_ _fucking years old_! _I_ was the only one who'd seen how broken he was that day in Madam Malkins! _I_ was the only one to care enough to heal him! _I _was the only who _saw, _who fucking _cared_!

"You all judged his essays and docked points because of his horrible handwriting and spelling – it was because every one of his fingers were _broken _and it took a good _three months_ to heal all of them! Not to mention that his _beloved_ _relatives _had never bothered to send him to primary school! He knew _nothing._

"Granted, he wouldn't let me help him until I'd practically forced the truth from him in second year, but it doesn't change the fact that _I was the only one he could trust!_ Not his Head of House," here Draco glared at the speechless, white McGonagall, "who thought he was his father and was always trying to get attention. Not his Headmaster, who constantly set him up again and again to face the most sadistic Dark Lord in history at _Hogwarts – _the one place that should have been a safe haven for him! Not his so-called friends, who gave and retracted their loyalty at will, and were revealed to be using him for his fame in order to further themselves!

"Oh, perhaps his dogfather? Y'know, the one who cared about him enough that, rather than taking care of his recently orphaned nephew, went to go and exact revenge on a rat and ended up spending _twelve years in Azkaban!_ Oh yes, Harry told me _everything_." Draco spat to the Order's shocked looks. But he didn't stop, he'd been waiting too long to say this on behalf of his boyfriend. "Maybe _after _Sirius Black had escaped, perhaps? The mutt spent more than half his time on the run and the other half talking about how much like James Harry was! If Harry had said that he was abused, Sirius would have thought it an excellent prank on his Muggle relatives; because there was no way _James' _son would allow himself to be abused by Muggles.

"And finally, we come to the suedo-godwolf." He turned burning, hate-filled eyes upon Remus; who flinched and looked down in shame. Those attending didn't have to wait long to find out what he meant. "The one that Harry trusted most of all. The one who taught him a Patronus charm and gave him chocolate, and helped him stay out of trouble with teachers. The one who told him stories of his parents, who fought a Dementor off for him, and who was willing to kill his mate- Sirius Black- to protect him."

Abruptly, his voice turned cold, condemning. "The one who didn't question why Harry could find no happy memories for his Patronus. The one who lied about Severus' childhood relationship with Lily. The one who endangered him by not taking his wolfsbane potion. The one who blamed Harry for Black's foolish death. The one who rejected Harry, telling him that his parents would have been ashamed; that he was gradually killing off the Marauders, one by one." Shocked gasps echoed through the room, and Remus refused to look up. "The one who condemned him to a life of hell in his Uncle's abusive household." And here, the final nails in the coffin; Draco's eyes snapped from Remus to Severus. "The one whose werewolf senses would have known all along that Harry was Severus' son, not James'."

Ignoring the shocked murmurings of the adults in the room, Draco leaned over Severus menacingly. Severus, for his part, was strangely numb, as though he was a puppet whose strings had all been cut. "And as for you, you're a fucking_ bastard, _Professor Snape. Harry's known that you were his father since he was six years old. He used to pray in his cupboard for his daddy to come and take him away. He used to write letters and put them in the trees, hoping that an owl would take it to you, until his aunt realized what he was doing and broke every one of his fingers so that '_he'd know better than to write'._

"You were the only thing that Harry'd allowed himself to hope for. He figured that you didn't know, but that as soon as you found out you'd take him in and care for him. He told me that he was planning to stay behind after that first potions class and tell you; give you the bundle of letters from his mum that he'd discovered in the attic." Draco sneered in scorn at Severus' devastated face, "Royally fucked that up, didn't you _Uncle Severus_? I've lost count of the number of times I've held him as he cried after your cruel actions and words."

Draco whirled away from his godfather, facing the gathered wizards and witches; speechless in pain and remorse. "It was your actions that caused him to attempt suicide earlier last year. The knowledge that he couldn't trust any adults and nearly none of his peers, coupled with his Muggle-ingrained fear of homosexuality, and the realization that he was attracted to me, his only friend; caused Harry to attempt to rid the world of his _freakishness_. If I hadn't found him and reassured him, Harry would be dead, and the Dark Lord victorious; and all the blame would be on your worthless arses."

At the memory of his love, covered in blood and sobbing in the Astronomy Tower, caused the wind to go out of Draco's sails and his shoulders to sag. Lucius eased his son into a soft chair where he slumped, boneless. Lucius gently rubbed his shoulder, before taking up the narrative.

"After Narcissa's cruel actions were uncovered, Draco and I have spent the better part of the summer trying to get custody of Harry. But at every turn we were thwarted, until finally we were told, in no uncertain terms, to back off or we'd end up in Azkaban. Apparently, they were under the impression that we were trying to use Mr. Potter's fame to renew our social standing; and that it was a well known fact that the Boy-Who-Lived was safe and spoiled behind the blood wards with his relatives. That fabricating abuse against the Savior's relatives would never stick.

"We even tried to get the WCS involved, but they just laughed in our faces. It didn't matter that they'd been neglecting their duty to Mr. Potter ever since he was orphaned, as they should have been making regular check-ups to the Dursleys to determine in they were suitable guardians for the Boy-Who-Lived. No, they were far to busy at that time to bother with investigating baseless claims, and anything to do with Mr. Potter's home life was irrelevant."

"You all expected him to be your perfect Savior, your sacrificial lamb to slaughter," Draco interrupted, voice heavy and accusatory. "He was supposed to care for all of you, to save all of you."

He looked up, and the pain and injustice in his eyes stole all their breaths away. "But who was willing to save _him_? No one…"

The silence was pervasive in the room. Several silently wept in their corners, while many just stared with unseeing eyes.

Severus had never hated himself more than he did in that moment. How could he have missed it? How could he have not _seen?_ So many signs from his own childhood, he'd been willingly blind to.

"Where is he?" Asked Severus in a hoarse whisper, causing a few to jump in shock as the silence was broken. "Where is my son?" No one dared say anything about Severus calling Harry his son.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, blue eyes awash with self-incriminatory tears that poured down his face. "My instruments show that he's at Hogwarts, but not where therein. He never showed up for the feast, and no one's seen him on the train or on the carriages."

Draco's breath hitched. "That means that it's really bad. Harry's uncle said that this was the summer that he was going to start selling Harry. If he wasn't seen, it means that the pain and abuse was so bad that he didn't possess the energy to power his glamours, so he snuck into Hogwarts under his invisibility cloak."

"Dear Merlin," Severus choked out, remembering something. To the other's confused and shocked gazes, he summarized. "The glamours that Lily placed on him when he was born probably came off this summer. So not only is he invisible, but we don't know what he looks like or in what shape he's in. His friends, family-" he sneered at Remus in fury. At least _Severus _hadn't known that Harry was his son, unlike the wolf; who both knew the truth _and _was his honorary godfather. _Goddamned Mutt_. "-and boyfriend have either betrayed him or died. He's just gotten back from a summer of terrible abuse, and believed that no one cares about him." He saw the moment when everyone realized exactly what the missing Boy-Who-Lived was probably currently doing.

"He's committing suicide, and we don't know where he is."

_Right now you're bruised and bleeding  
>I see the hurt within your eyes<br>I know your pain is for a reason  
>You need to feel just to know that you're alive<em>_  
><em>

Severus, Lucius, and Draco were running, far ahead of all the other wizards and witches behind them; years of running for their lives as Death Eaters augmenting their strength and stamina.

Draco had remembered Harry saying that he loved the Astronomy Tower, that it was as close as he'd ever get to heaven, and that it was so peaceful up there, away from the prejudices and expectations of all those far below. He'd remembered that that was where Harry had been the last time he'd attempted suicide, and it was the only lead that they had.

Draco had barely blurted out the revelation before he was tearing down the steps, father and godfather right on his heels.

Severus' chest ached, his lungs burned, and his heart beat a frantic staccato against his ribcage. He launched himself up the Tower, cursing stairs more than he'd cursed anything in his entire life – even Potter.

_He had to be safe… They had to be on time… He couldn't be dead, not his son, not the last piece of his Lily…_

He resolutely tried to ignore that part of him that hissed that he'd never cared about Harry's connection to Lily in the past.

_Right now you're bruised and bleeding  
>I see the hurt within your eyes<br>I know your pain is for a reason  
>You need to feel just to know that you're alive<em>

_Right now you're bruised and bleeding  
>I see the hurt within your eyes<br>I know your pain is for a reason  
>You need to feel just to know that you're alive<em>

As Draco sobbed and clutched his boyfriend's bloody body to his chest; and Lucius cast spell after spell to safe the boy whom he hoped would one day become his son-in-law, praying he wasn't too late; Severus stood frozen, Harry's final letter clutched in his nerveless hands.

His eyes roved over his son's true form: curly, ebony-black hair with a streak of dark red; high cheekbones and defined chin; thin, slightly crooked nose – _Lily's nose, broken on too many times by brutal bullies… just like Severus'_ – and pink, still cupid-bow lips; and long, dark-as-night eyelashes that Severus knew masked eyes the color of Lily's… but with specks of his own onyx coloring.

This was his and Lily's – _their son._

This was what he'd destroyed, what he'd broken.

He'd failed the bond.

He'd failed his beautiful flower, his Love-Lily.

He failed Harrigan Severus Snape, _his _son.

_Merlin forgive me, for I'll never forgive myself…_

_I'm so, so sorry…_

* * *

><p><em>AN: The following for this story is flattering! I couldn't put it off any longer, and finally hunkered down and typed this up for all you faithful out there. I hope that this lives up to your expectations. (I'll tell you this, I sobbed like a baby while I was _typing _it. Ridiculous…) But anyways, just letting you know that there'll be one more chapter, but it'll be _really _long, so it might be a bit until I can get it out to all of you. There's going to be lots of descriptions, details, forgiveness and condemnation. But I won't tell you if Harry's alive or dead yet, that's only to be revealed next chapter. I will tell you this though, this was originally supposed to be a one-shot, until I got all those excellent reviews from all of you and decided to keep it going. Keep reading and reviewing, for they are the fuel that drives my typing engine._

* * *

><p>…<em>I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good…<em>


	4. Scream

_**A/N: This chapter's going to be a bit different, as well as long. I'm incorporating two songs this time. The regular **__slanted __**words is the song that will represent the people who found Harry's body and their thoughts. The **__slanted/__**bolded words is the song that represents Harry and his struggle. Whether or not Severus and co. or Harry wins – and whether Harry actually dies – remains to be seen at the end.**_

_**This is officially the last chapter. I put this off for so long because I wanted to make sure that I got it COMPLETELY right. It was a bit of a struggle, but I finally managed. Thank you for your unending patience, and I hope that my conclusion satisfies you.**_

_**And now: The FINAL CHAPTER of IF I DIE YOUNG. (Over 10,000 words people!)**_

* * *

><p><em>Does anybody know how I feel?<br>Sometimes I'm numb, sometimes I'm overcome  
>Does anybody care what's going on?<br>Do I have to wear my scars like a badge on my arm  
>For you to see me? I need release<em>

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN,

_Although I highly doubt that this will concern anyone, not really, I thought I'd write this out anyway – if nothing else than to give the grave-digger an explanation for inconveniencing him._

_For whomever found my body, sorry about the mess. Tell Filch I apologize for making one last mess for him to clean up. Tell him he can curse my name all he wants to now, since he can't give me a detention in retribution. Not anymore. Never anymore._

_I suspect that no one will even notice I've been missing for a week or so, and will probably only find me by the smell. I cast an air-freshening charm, just in case; but I'm not sure how long spells last if their caster is dead. This is as good a way to experiment as any, I suppose._

_Before I finally leave, and free you all from the Curse that is the Boy-Who-Lived, I want to give several well-earned apologies._

_To Ron and Hermione. I know that you hate me, and only continued being my friend in the hopes for increasing popularity and money; and I guess I can understand it. After all, the rest of the wizarding world got a piece of me, why should you be any different? But still, even though I should know better, that I deserved it, I can't help but be hurt by your cruel actions and words, and utter disregard for my feelings and life. So, as I leave, I'll try and remember you as I knew – as I loved – you. On that train in our first year. A self-conscious boy with a love for chocolate frogs and Quidditch; and a bushy-haired know-it-all who watched out for and cared for two idiot, danger-chasing boys. The best mate who sacrificed himself so that his friends could continue on and stop Voldemort; and the brilliant Muggle-born who professed that there were more important things than books and cleverness – like friendship, and bravery. __**Those **__are the Ron and Hermione that I'll remember; even as I wish for the current ones to have a long and danger-free life – without me._

_To Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Hagrid. I know that it was you three who left me on the Dursleys doorstep. And although I've been given explanation after explanation, I can't pretend to fathom or understand the reasons __**why**__. Why you would leave me out in the cold in November? Why would you never check up on me, never tell me about my world – the world my parents died for? Why would you never investigate my first letter – addressed to __**Harry Potter, Cupboard Under the Stairs, Little Winging, Surrey**__? And why, oh why did no one ever watch out for, protect, or believe me, year after year, as I was obligated to protect and cover and save you – the adults! – while you sat by and only came when the danger had already passed? The only explanation that I can come up with is – you believed that I deserved it._

_The beatings, abuse, starvation, neglect, rapes. Perhaps, Albus, you hoped that the harsh conditions would cultivate the survival magic that helped me survive Voldemort. Or, maybe you hoped that they would succeed in suppressing my power, so that I wouldn't ever be in risk of becoming more powerful than you – or, Merlin forbid, another Tom Riddle. Well, you never have to worry about that again. And you, McGonagall, maybe you hoped that I would rise above the pain and become the headstrong Gryffindor that you so desperately desired. Maybe you were hoping that they would crush whatever of James – my father – I had in me; so that I wouldn't terrorize the castle like he did in his youth. For whatever reason; you, too, succeeded in your goals. And Hagrid – poor, kind, misunderstood, daft Hagrid – I truly don't believe you held me any ill-will. But, with all your experience with creatures and their young, even you should have known that leaving an eighteen-month old child on a doorstep in November was not a good idea. Then again, you've always been more knowledgeable with the larger, more dangerous and sturdy beasties; and how you go about taming them._

_I'm sorry, all three of you, for not taking what the Dursleys had taught me to heart. I was more powerful than Voldemort and Dumbledore, I was almost a Slytherin, and I refused to break under them. It's not your fault, nor the Dursleys, that I refused to believe I was a Freak for most of my life. It was mine, I'm just too bloody stubborn. Don't punish them, they did their best to teach me the error of my ways, my place in this world; but they just weren't strong enough._

_Perhaps you should have hired two specific wizards to do the job; for, in truth, they were the ones who broke me._

_To Professor Lupin, I apologize for being such a weak pupil and pathetic cub. I'm sorry that I'm responsible for the death of your mate. I'm sorry that I took away the last of your friends – of the Marauders. I'm sorry that I'm responsible for James and Lily's deaths; and Sirius' incarceration. I'm sorry for relying on you, for depending on you. I should have known that I didn't deserve that, and that I was only being a burden, making it harder on you. I leave so that you can hopefully heal, recover, without the bane of your existence dogging your every step. But, most of all, I'm sorry for being so weak and leaving to see Sirius again; while you cannot. I know that you were put on suicide watch. Funny, no one thought to do the same for me. Probably because they knew I didn't deserve it… I'd done my job, and it was time for me to disappear. So that's what I'm doing. I wouldn't be surprised if, a hundred years into the future, no one remembers my name. I'll only be known as the Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One – a name as lost to time and legend as his archenemy You-Know-Who, or Voldemort. No one shall remember orphan Harry Potter, just as none will remember orphan Tom Riddle._

_To the wizarding world, I sincerely apologize for, first, allowing and aiding Voldemort coming back in the first place, then not getting rid of him quickly enough – and thereby sparing more lives. I've sullied and cursed your world for far too long, and I'm only sorry that I didn't spare you sooner – spare you of myself._

_To Mr. and Mrs. Diggory; I am sorry for being responsible for the death of your son. I'm sorry that I took away from his thunder, from his hard-earned glory, and repaid him nothing. I apologize for the pain I've brought your family, for not being strong enough to save your son – who was so much more than just a 'spare'._

_To Draco Lucien Malfoy. My love, my one, my only. My reason for living, for fighting, for breathing. My everything, my all. I could list a million reasons why I loved you, why I still do; but they would fall dull and flat, for they are nothing that I haven't already told you a thousand thousand times before. So, instead, I'll tell you all the ways I've wronged you; and apologize for every one, though it can never possibly be enough to atone for the burden of __**me**__._

_I'm sorry for unloading everything upon you, for laying all my pathetic woes upon your shoulders and never giving anything back. I'm sorry for holding out on you, for being unwilling and afraid to give that part of me that my uncle had already tasted and violated. You were right, you deserved it and more, after all you put up with for, because of, me._

_And, no matter how I know I deserved this pain of betrayal and condemnation and heartbreak, no matter how much I fight against it; I can't deny that the one thing I apologize for, more than anything else, is falling in love with you. Because then, maybe, this wouldn't hurt so fucking much. Sorry._

_And, finally, to Professor Severus Snape. Greasy Git. Bastard Dungeon Bat of Slytherin. Spy, Potions Master, ex-Death Eater. Father. I apologize to you the most. For being a representation of all you lost, all that was stolen from you. For never being good enough, never measuring up, never making you proud. I'm sorry that I almost trusted you, almost told you everything about my mother and your wife, almost shouldered you with the burden that is the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm sorry for always forcing you to have to save me, for never being competent and always a dunderhead. I'm sorry for plaguing your life with the ghost of James Potter, your tormentor and worst enemy. And, most of all, I'm sorry about that night. The night that Lily Snape coerced you into an Unbreakable Bond to protect me against your will; the night that the selfish baby-Harry interrupted your mourning over her body with his pathetic, self-centered fears and pains. Yes, I remember, I've always remembered; and I'm so, so sorry._

_It's these last two, my boyfriend and father, that destroyed me at last. I'd always hoped, dreamed, that one day I'd marry Draco, and my Father would rescue and forgive me; and we'd live happily ever after. I thought, after everything I'd done, that, surely, I at least deserved that. But I didn't. I never did. And it was that fact – that realization – that finally broke me. Like I said, they succeeded where the Dursleys had failed._

_So now, I leave. I free you all of the burden and Curse that is Harry James Potter, Harrigan Severus Snape-Evans, the Freak, the Boy-Who-Lived, the crazy attention-seeking liar, Just Harry. I'd go on and on with apologies to all those whom I ultimately failed, who died due to my failure, but that's what I'm leaving now to do. And then, once I've paid my penance, I'll be free to spend the rest of eternity in Hades; where a freaky bastard like me belongs._

_Gringotts will contact all persons whom I've mentioned in my Will and Testament shortly. I've been planning this for a long time; but have been too much of a coward to go through with it. So there you go, Harry Potter's last Gryffindor act._

_Sincerely,_

_The-Freak-Who-Died_

* * *

><p><em>Do I have to scream for you to hear me?<br>Do I have to bleed for you to see me?  
>'Cause I grieve, you're not listening to me<br>Do I need to scream?_

As Severus forced the last word through his painfully tight throat, he looked up at those assembled around him.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Weasley and Granger, Hagrid, Pomona and Filius, Madam Pomphrey and Severus, Lucius and Draco, and Lupin. Not a sound was made, as all had no words in the face of such pain, agony, despair, and condemnation.

Lucius and Draco stood off in a corner, Draco's head buried in his father's chest. His muffled sobs echoed through the tragic silence of the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore, indeed, looked like he might never speak again. He had such a look of devastation and pain on his face that no one could look at him without feeling like it was a knife to their own hearts, as well. McGonagall was no better off, staring off into space, nearly comatose; unable to believe the torment of her little lion, and her own unwitting part in it all.

Hagrid, for the first time in his life, had passed out. He had fallen back onto an empty bed, collapsing the legs and sending the mattress to the floor. But no one said anything; no one even looked.

Pomona and Filius felt terrible, thought not nearly the level as those around them. But, deep in their hearts, they couldn't help but wonder if they hadn't seen it; but just as easily dismissed it. Pomona was only too familiar with the desperate loyalty that those who were abused could exhibit; clinging to those who showed them kindness and comfort and never letting go. Wasn't so the same with Harry? And Filius, clever, powerful, half-goblin Filius, had his own slice of self-condemnation on his plate. Didn't he have extensive experience with those who drowned themselves in books – whether it be factual or fanciful – to escape their cruel and abusive lives? Ones who had abandoned all hope and so relied completely on fact and not at all on emotion; or those who drowned in hope, becoming airy and absentminded in an effort to distance themselves from reality, like poor Ms. Lovegood?

With her depressed, neglectful, absent-minded father who often turned to the bottle and relied on Luna to take care of him, to handle the upkeep of the house, to brew the hangover and nutrition potions; it was no wonder that she turned to fanciful, rare creatures – the same study that her poor mother had devoted herself to.

Filius had had an example _right in front of him_. Had known what he was looking for, what the signs were; and yet totally missed another similar child. Harry, who was often found in a corner of the library, curled up with children's stories and novels, smiling in a sad way that Filius had wondered at, but dismissed. Harry, who read and studied and memorized all of the most complicated and powerful charms and spells so as to survive what was thrown at him year after year. Yes, Filius knew all the signs, and hated himself for ignoring them.

The one who felt the most guilty was surprising – or not so, depending on how you looked at it – was Madam Pomphrey, Dragon of the Hospital Wing. He left hand was clutched tightly over the throat, as though to force the bile that wanted to escape down; while her right gripped her wand in a white-knuckled grip. Her wand – _ten and a quarter inches, Welsh Green heartstring, unusually sturdy, good for protection – _that had fought and defended with a fierce, single-minded passion in the First War; and had healed and mended with an unerring and soothing touch in the aftermath of each battle. To protect and heal; to fight and mend; to sooth and tear asunder. Whatever she put her heart to, as long as it was to _protect_, her wand would do anything she asked it to. It's what gave her the nickname of 'Dragon' _long _before she ever came to Hogwarts; and it's why Dumbledore was so eager to hire her. After all, if you want to hire someone who can both protect and heal your students; why not find the one who's very _magic _was made to do so?

And yet… _and yet…_ her wand hadn't seen, hadn't protected, hadn't healed. At least a half-dozen times she saw Mr. Potter every year; she'd had him under her _wand_ all those times, so often that she'd recently created a plaque over the bed he frequented, hoping that it would bring a smile to the face that hardly ever did.

'_Harry Potter's Bed – DO NOT TOUCH_

_Possible Consequences: Potter's Luck – a Contagious Disease that is only curable by ten trips to the Hospital Wing every year and the consummation of five different potions, until such a time as you graduate. Possibly. We haven't had time to study this curious disease, so it very well might be permanent._

_PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK'_

It was in that bed that Harry lay now. Again, only moments after she'd healed and examined him with her wand – _too late, Poppy… perhaps, far, far too late – _and the knowledge that he might never see that plaque, that this might be the very last bed he lay in – it very nearly broke her heart. At that moment, Poppy hated her wand almost as much as she hated herself.

As for Remus Lupin, well… he was another story altogether. All his life he'd been locked in a battle between beast and human; wolf and man. First, when James and Lily had died, the wolf had howled and cried for them to care for their cub, the last of their pack. But the man, Remus, mourned the loss of his mate and pack, and feared the idea of taking care of a child – and so he ran. At that time, the Ministry was so happy and ecstatic about the defeat of Voldemort that they'd have done _anything _to grant the wish of the late James Potter, and his most loyal friend – werewolf or not. But he'd waited too long, ran too long; and when he came back it was a harder, crueler, more unbending world that shunned werewolves. And so, the man and wolf both lost – pack, mate, and cub.

And now… well, it all comes back to the choices of the man, doesn't it? The beast, the wolf, is nothing more than a primal being of instinct and survival. The wolf's instinct was to mate, to cub, then to pack. To hunt, howl, run free. Man is always controlled by emotions, feelings, fleeting conceptions of right and wrong, selfish desires and desperate wants. And, when Remus cut off the wolf's instinct – tore them apart shred by shred and stomped on them – the knowledge that Harry was their cub, was no more. They were alone, the Lone Alpha Male, and that was how it had always been.

So now, Remus was torn apart by pain and guilt, unable and yet forced to witness the consequences of his selfishness, his own human desires and emotions. But the Wolf, with no knowledge or care that Harry was once a cub, only remembered the loss of his mate – _again – _and so was mad in rage and fury and sorrow. The Wolf had finally become what Remus had always professed it to be. Without instinct, without pack, without cubs, and without a mate – for the second time – the Wolf became nothing more than a mad beast; a monster.

And Remus, once again torn as he was between Harry and the Human, the Wolf and Harry; wondered who, all along, the true monster was. Moony… or himself.

And as for Severus… well… his grief, his pain, was a thousand times more potent and acute – if only for the reason that he'd gone _so long _without feeling anything other than numbness… or hatred.

There were, indeed, no words for the agony and self-condemnation weighing down his soul…

* * *

><p><em><strong>It hasn't always been this way<br>I remember brighter days  
>Before the dark ones came<br>Stole my mind  
>Wrapped my soul in chains<strong>_

'_Freak…'_

'_Worthless…'_

'_Murderer…'_

These words flashed by in Harry's mind, over and over and over again; every time spoken by a voice – a face – of a person whom he'd once loved – but now only tormented him.

Faces flitted in front of his face, appearing and vanishing in the darkness too quickly for him to make sense of them… to make sense of anything.

He was trapped, surrounded in all-encompassing darkness. He could not move, speak, scream. There were only the faces, the hatred, the loathing and condemnation; tearing through and shredding him as he lay there, immobile, unable and unwilling to deny their accusations.

For he knew them to be truth.

But Harry was only human, only a weak Freak, and so, after a while, he could not stand to listen anymore. He wanted to run, to escape, like the bastard cowardly Slytherin he was – _wait, was that his own thought, or was that Ron's who was right beside him? No, it's James now, and Sirius, and Neville, and Cedric…_

So Harry struggled. He fought furiously in his mind until something gave – and, suddenly, he could wriggle. And that wriggle became a squirm, and that squirm became bucking, and that bucking turned into thrashing.

All the while, the faces and voices and curses turned faster and faster, louder and louder, more and more piercing and soul-shattering. After a while Harry became lost to them, losing his sense of when, where, _what _he was.

Until, finally, something broke. And he was screaming, and falling, and begging for mercy.

He was Harry, he was Freak, he was the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior, the Murderer, the attention-seeking lying bastard, the Fatherless, Abandoned Orphan.

And he was still falling.

Then, there was a flash of green, a streak of red, and a shroud of black.

'_Mum…?'_

_**Now I live among the dead  
>Fighting voices in my head<br>Hoping someone hears me crying in the night  
>And carries me away<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Has anybody seen what's been done?<br>Where was my defense? No one heard my protest  
>The eyes of God were watching me<br>It's time to make my peace, let it go and be released  
>So I can breathe again<br>I'm on my knees_

Severus abruptly stood, towering over all of the grief-stricken occupants of the Infirmary. The intense, dark look on his face – so filled with black fire and fierce will and resolve – both terrified and brought desperate hope to those to dared look upon his visage.

"I _refuse,_" Severus growled, voice as dark and forbidding as his robes; daring the mortal foolish enough to contradict him. "To lose him again. I don't care what must be done, but I am going to _fix _this… as it should have been done a decade and a half ago."

He whirled to Pomphrey, who just now seemed to be coming out of her lethargy, a small light of desperate yearning and hope lighting her face. If anyone could fix this, it would be Severus. A more stubborn man she'd never known… "Poppy! I need your professional opinion and notes on his mental and physical state. We need-"

And here, we have the fool idiotic enough to first interrupt, then contradict the Potions Master. Ronald Weasley sneered, "Don't bother! He's just a tainted, nasty _Freak_; whom doesn't deserve to live! He comes back and he will be putting _everyone _in jeopardy again, and I refuse to risk it! I barely survived four years as his '_friend'_; I'm not bloody likely to do it again! Besides," And here, Ron's voice and face turned sly and greasy. "I'm sure that, with him rightfully believing he deserved it and all, he probably left a great deal of money to Mione and me. We won't get it if he's alive. Besides, it's the least that we deserve, dealing with his worthless arse all these years. Don't put forth the effort!

"By the way," Ron didn't seem to notice the horrified looks of everyone in the room – looks that were swiftly becoming all-consuming rage – nor his girlfriend tugging furiously on his arm. It was uncertain if she was doing so out of some misplaced sense of guilt over her ex-friend and what her boyfriend was saying about him; or an attempt to save himself from his own loose tongue. For whatever reason, she was unsuccessful, and Ron continued unfazed, "nice job there, Professor, breaking him like that. I totally agree though – if I had a son like that, I'd wish him dead too."

With that, Severus Snape, most feared Potions Master of the Dungeons, ex-Death Eater, formidable spy; lost his temper and composure for the first time in years.

Fifteen hours later Ron was discovered on the roof of the Astronomy Tower; unconscious, tongue attached to his arse, and bullocks permanently severed off. Hermione was found, after the invisibility charm wore off in the middle of Study Hour, trussed up naked in the library, entirely bald, cursed with dyslexia, and also impotent.

As for those in the Hospital Wing, very few recognized the names, colors, or natures of the curses Severus cast with unerring and frightening precision; and those who did said and did nothing – a couple were even smirking for days afterwards. Draco was unable to resist giving a watery chuckle, covering it up with a cough under his father's amused gaze.

After the two back-stabbing bastards vanished from the Hospital Wing, Severus flicked his hair out of his face, stowed his wand, and turned back to Madam Pomphrey; entirely composed – as though he hadn't cursed two students into oblivion only seconds before.

And, if asked later by Aurors, he didn't; and they _really _didn't know what they were talking about. Severus? No, he would _never _do something like that to a student. Preposterous! Utterly absurd! And really, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger had a history of trying to blame or frame Professor Snape for things he hadn't done; and they suspected this was a similar case.

And, with all witnesses saying the same thing, or variations of the above; well, who could refute it?

"Madam Poppy?" Severus purred, feeling more centered and calm than before, now that he had worked some of his anger out of his system. _Amazing _what cursing Gryffindors can do for relieving tension… "Are you prepared for this? Are you able to compose yourself so that you might be of use to me? Because I'll need you Poppy. And for this, I cannot have you breaking down."

A fierce rush of power and challenge and determination coursed through her. Before their eyes, she was transformed from broken-hearted woman to the angry, protective, powerful Dragoness that they all knew, loved, and feared. "Must you even ask, Severus?" She growled, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and crammed her healer's cap on her head. Her hand tightened around her wand in a white-knuckled grip; this time, not in hatred, but furious and un-dauntable will.

Seeing the Poppy that he knew – that he needed – Severus nodded and briskly moved forward; vanishing the curtained room and exposing Harry Potter's body to the gazes of those in the room.

Those who loved him. Those who cared for him. And those who wanted to save him.

But, looking at him now; none were certain that they were up to the task.

None, except for two. One stubborn, single-minded Mediwitch; and one desperate, determined father. _They _were up to the task, _they _would succeed.

Because the alternative was inconceivable.

* * *

><p><em>Do I have to scream for you to hear me?<br>Do I have to bleed for you to see me?  
>'Cause I grieve, you're not listening to me<br>Do I need to scream?_

"He doesn't want to live. And that's making it impossible for me to heal him. His unconscious magic, the survival magic that he was forced to cultivate, it even now bending to his will. He doesn't _want _to live, so his magic is enforcing that wish. It's keeping the knife wounds open, and I'm only just managing to keep a steady flow of Blood-Replenishing Potions in his system to replace the escaping blood. But I cannot do it for long. I only have enough Blood-Replenishing to keep up this pace for-" here, Madam Pomphrey skimmed her notes and did a quick calculation in her head "-another six to eight hours. We have until that time's up to convince him to live, to come back to us. But that task's made difficult-"

"By the fact that he's in a coma." Severus finished for her, mind rushing furiously through the options, possibilities. "Blood-Replenishing takes ten hours to brew, which is too much time. There's only one option."

"_Legilimency_." Severus and Draco said at the same time. Draco stood before his godfather's assessing gaze, silver eyes a little red, but firm. "I'm going with you. I won't abandon him again."

And Severus winced at both the stubbornness, and condemnation in those words. But he'd worry about his godson's forgiveness and affection later – if it could ever be regained.

This time, for the first time, his son came first.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Set me free of the chains holding me<br>Is anybody out there hearing me?  
>Set me free<strong>_

_**Set me free**_

He was screaming and not making a sound; falling and floating and perfectly still. He was thrashing and begging and convulsing and yet utterly powerless and ineffectual. He was everything and nothing, and Harry and Freak, and a liar and a savior and a whore. He was dead, he was barely living, he was in hell and he deserved it and yet he desperately wanted to escape.

But it didn't matter what he was. All that mattered was _where _he was.

And that was eternal torment – utter and complete hell.

Again and again _Potter, Freak, Harry_ could only watch as his mother screamed, as the murderous green curse burned – searing his retinas and consuming his life – and as she fell to the ground, silent, and her flaming gossamer hair spread across the hard-wood floor like silk, like blood, like death.

And then the dark, evil face loomed before him, and Harry was so scared that he spit up all over the man's robes; and the face twisted in hatred and fury and the stick – _wand – _was pointed at his face. Then there was a flash of red and a screamed _"Crucio!"_ and Harry was screaming and crying and being torn apart from all sides.

And then, after an eternity and a day, the pain was gone, and Harry was laying in his own sick and tears and snot; gasping and wailing and sobbing. Then there was the emerald fire again, and this time it was _Harry _who was burning, who was dying. And then a flash of white, an inhuman scream, an explosion of black fire and power; and the wand clattered to the floor in a pile of empty robes as the sides of Harry's crib exploded outwards, taking the wall and ceiling with it but leaving the child safe.

Then Harry was struggling, was crawling, as blood fell down his face and blinded him, no matter how often he tried to wipe it away. And, finally, he reached his mother. And, just as he had a million million times before, as he would do it again a million million times, he begged his mother to wake up. He pleaded and screamed and even bit her finger, but she never woke up. She just lay there, identical emerald eyes that were once to filled with love and adoration, now blank and empty and cold.

That was when the worst part of the memory started.

A figure in black swooped into the room, and Harry knew that this was not Prongs, but his father; his true father. A part of his magic that had been waiting for this moment, to make the connection, merged and anchored itself; as it should have done upon his birth.

And, suddenly, Harry was sure that everything would be okay.

But then everything went horribly wrong.

He father was _there_, was _real,_ but he didn't see Harry. He didn't care. Then he looked up, and Mum was back – but glowing! – and Harry was so happy and relieved. But then there was a flash of light, and Mum was gone again, and Harry was so, _so _very tired.

And Da was there, picking him up and laying him down, giving him his Pwongs; and Harry fell asleep, safe in the knowledge that Da was here now, that he would make everything right. And he allowed his heavy eyelids to close, the image of the imposing, protective black figure the last thing he saw.

That was the last time Harry would see his father.

And it was then, as Harry watched in an out of body experience as his father left, and Sirius – _Merlin, Sirius! – _and Hagrid showed up. And Sirius gave little Harry to Hagrid without hardly a fight – _See, he abandoned you too! No one cares! – _and left; and then Hagrid took him to Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Then, Harry could only watch and scream as they left him, _abandoned _him, on Number Four's doorstep – Pain and Agony and Torment's doorstep – sprouting things about the 'Greater Good' and 'Family'.

And then everything would fade to black, and the voices and faces would condemn, and taunt, and torment him again – tearing him down piece by piece with horrible truth a lies – to the point that Harry didn't know which was which anymore.

And then the black would fade, and he'd wake up… again in his crib and faced with his mother's terrified face just as the door blew open from the outside as it began again.

And Harry would scream, and thrash, and beg and plead and yet never move a muscle, never say a word; as his hell continued.

And, once again, Harry cried out for mercy, for help, for rescue.

And, once again, his pleas went unanswered.

But Harry had expected that. After all, that's what a Freak deserves.

_And yet… what was that…?_

_**Morning breaks another day  
>Finds me crying in the rain<br>All alone with my demons I am  
>Who is this man that comes my way?<br>The dark ones shriek  
>They scream His name<br>Is this the One they say will set the captives free?  
>Daddy, rescue me!<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>I've been marked, set apart<br>But I'm cut so deep and afraid of the dark  
>One drop of blood from the hole in Your hand<br>Is enough to heal me and make me stand_

_'Cause I'm clean, He is listening to me…__**  
><strong>_

"Are you sure about this, Mr. Malfoy, Severus? If Harry decides not to come back, or he dies with you still in there, your minds will die with him." Poppy half reminded, half pleaded with her colleague. On one hand, she desperately wanted to save Harry, to rescue him from the hell they'd condemned him to. On the other, she didn't want to lose another student and a beloved friend should they fail. But even as she asked, she knew what their answer would be.

And, when Severus gave her a sharp, confirmatory nod and Draco a stubborn, firm glare; she just nodded and sighed and set to work.

She moved two beds to either side of Harry's and bid them to lay down. As soon as they were as comfortable as she could make them, she passed them the potion. Without hesitation, both tipped them back and swallowed. And, under the concerned and fearful gazes of those still in the room, Draco and Severus grabbed a hand of Harry's each; before their eyes rolled into the backs of their heads, and they passed out.

"Madam Pomphrey? What is that potion?" Remus Lupin timidly asked, being sure to avert his eyes from the prone form of his honorary godson; the ex-cub that his Wolf wanted to tear apart and kill.

But, it seemed that Poppy had not forgiven Remus for his actions and words, and likely never would, for she completely ignored him; as though he did not exist.

Seeing the tension rising between them that was just waiting for a spark to ignite, Minerva quickly stepped in. "Poppy? I've never been a genius in potions, but I've thought myself to be competent enough. But I must admit, I've never seen that particular potion. What does it do?"

But, instead of Poppy, it was the heavy, agony-filled, toneless voice of Lucius Malfoy that answered. "It is the '_Animum Certamen', _or 'Mind Combine', Potion. It allows their minds to meld with Mr. Potters far more completely than Legilimency ever could. Not only does it continue for far longer than simple mind-scanning would, but it allows them to go deeper into the mind and subconscious, to find and bring out Mr. Potter. But if they were to fail… if they cannot find Mr. Potter, or cannot convince him to return, then their minds will _remain _combined with his; and when Mr. Potter's mind dies, so will theirs. In this case, they will pay for failure with their lives."

And with that, Lucius moved away from their horrified faces and his best friend and only, beloved son's prone bodies; and sat in a chair facing the far wall, back to the assembled company.

And a lone, crystal tear fell down his anguished face.

* * *

><p><em><strong>As my Father passes by<br>He looks straight through the lies  
>And darkness cannot hide<strong>_

"…_liar…"_

"…_worthless freak…"_

"_Kill the Spare…"_

Whispers and snatches of memory flickered and blinked in and out of existence; there one second, gone the next. There was no structure or reason to the mindscape, no sense of up or down, time being utterly insignificant and meaningless.

Occasionally there was a wisp of insubstantial mist, a torn cloth, a shattered stone; and Severus knew that this was all that was left of Harry's mental barriers, after he'd attacked and torn them apart so brutally the year before; inadvertently leaving him wide open for the Dark Lord's own machinations.

Just another in a long, infinite line of injustices and wrongs he'd heaped upon the boy… upon his _son._

Draco gripped his godfather's robes against the disconcerting feeling of floating and falling simultaneously. This was unlike anything either of them had ever seen or experienced before.

And both knew, somehow, that their target was hidden in one of these memories – these tattered remnants of a tormented mind – and, in order to find their wayward Gryffindor, they'd have to wade through them one by one.

And hope that they wouldn't be too late.

_A cupboard with locks and a bloodstained cot… __**Mummy'll come… mummy'll come…**_

_A faded, threadbare blanket embossed with the initials 'HJP' being thrown into a fire, a demonic face gleefully grinning at the child's anguished cries… __**Nooo! Muum!**_

_A room of men, of demons, all with salacious, sharp-toothed grins on their leering faces. The sense of tearing, of pain, of violation and filth; and the sound of screams for mercy… __**Please! Da! Da, PLEASE! **_

_A medieval torture chamber, located in a downstairs basement. Knives and whips and ball gags and dildos. Blood and sweat and tears and pain; a monster's face laughing with every strike upon the nubile back… __**I don't… I can't… Da… Da, why didn't you take me with you?..."**_

_A missed weed in the garden, an unforgiving blow from a frying pan to his face, and a week in his cupboard without food or a bucket to relieve his needs. Silent tears and broken anguish… __**Da, where are you? Where are you Da? Why did you leave me?...**_

_Purple turban on the floor, a two-faced demon whose touch brought fire and words soul-searing agony. A mirror with a forgotten image of love and family, calling to him even as he fell beneath the assault… __**Mum… I'm coming… I'm finally coming…**_

From agony to torment, from shattered hope to desperate please, Draco and Severus entered and viewed and attempted to heal each one; never finding the Harry they were looking for, the subconscious representation that they needed. And with every memory, a little more time passed, the clock ticked downward; with them having no way to tell how much or if they were going to die the next second.

Each memory, no matter what they found, had a prevailing undertone, an identical echo. From Privet Drive to Hogwarts, from few and weak happy snippets of memory to numerous, pain-filled and hopeless ones; there was one distinct central topic.

_Rescue. _A desperate cry for relief, for love, for release. But not from just anyone. From his mother, who had left him unwillingly, torn from his helpless grasp. And his 'Da', who abandoned him willingly, and tore apart his soul and hope and faint dreams upon their reunion.

Harry, who had known no other family than the one which he was born from…

Harry, who had known who his father was and what he looked like, having had an image, a faint memory, from before he should remember; that he linked with a forgotten letter five years later.

A memory, the only memory he would have ever had of his family – his Mum and Da – together.

And, suddenly, Severus knew where Harry would be; what memory he was trapped in.

The beginning of the end.

* * *

><p>Madam Pomphrey's hands shook as she administered the Blood Replenisher to the levitated IV bag. Being a half blood, she was one of the few who had ever thought – much less dared – to combine both Wizard and Muggle techniques. It was just another thing on a long list of why Poppy was so good at her job.<p>

And another reason why she hated herself for not helping Harry, for only relying on her wand; instead of utilizing her eyes and common sense as well.

"Poppy? What's the matter… what's happening?" Minerva asked, voice heavy with worry and fear as her sharp, cat-like eyes caught the slight tremor of her colleague's hands. Her near-perfect vision, which had still failed to see or comprehend what was right in front of her for four years.

The Medi-Witch took a deep breath before shoving all the accusatory and self-condemning thoughts into the back of her mind, until such a time where she was alone to scream and cry and maybe even indulge in a bit of Severus' behavior – that is, throwing breakable things at stone walls. In the meantime, she ran shaking hands over imaginary wrinkles in her apron in a misguided attempt to sooth both them and frayed nerves, before turning to face her long-time friend.

"That was the second to last Blood Replenisher in my stock. Given the steady loss the blood, Severus and Mr. Malfoy have less than an hour to save Mr. Potter. Past that… there will be nothing that I can do."

And Poppy had never felt more useless as a healer, a witch, a _human being _than she did in that moment. And, given the stricken and terrified expression on Minerva's face, she felt the same.

Far away from the two women, augmented ears hearing every word of the whispered conversation, one long, anguished man cried; as the beast within howled in triumph.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do you want to be free?<br>Lift your chains  
>I hold the key<br>All power on Heav'n and Earth belong to me**_

Finally, after what felt to be an eternity but might have very well been only seconds, Severus and Draco found the memory. Just viewing it from the outside, Severus could tell that it was playing on repeat, skipping back to the beginning like his mother's old record-player used to, before Severus fixed it.

Just as he would this time.

Draco, who was a pureblood and so had little to no knowledge of Muggle items – much less record-players – could only watch as his love reached the end of the terrible memory, before it descended into spite- and hate-filled words that destroyed his love a piece at a time.

As the darkness seemed to coagulate, to concentrate and become darker, the voices and words becoming louder and more poisonous; and Harry cried out again – the sound so similar and yet as equally heart-shattering as all the previous times they'd heard in throughout their journey – they knew that they could wait no longer.

And, as one, Severus and Draco, Godfather and Godson, Da and Boyfriend; stepped forward, and took the plunge into what would be the most important battle of their lives.

The battle for a soul.

* * *

><p>Harry just lay limply in his mind, weak and defeated, as the memory played again; the harsh words now playing on endless repeat in his head – words that, for some reason he'd always thought as truth, now seemed to be nothing more than empty and hollow lies. Harry couldn't pinpoint why this was, why it seemed that with every passing second something healed within him; even as he was torn apart by inevitable abandonment and poisonous barbs from forked tongues.<p>

But before Harry could think too deeply on this, he was distracted by the flash of green and red as his mother fell – _again_ – by the burning agony as he was hit by the torture curse – _again_ – and as the viridian light consumed his body and tore him apart, leaving him sobbing in the rubble of his nursery – _again._

And here, here was the part that he feared and hated the most out of any other – even the pain of being tortured and almost-killed.

The part where he met his father for the first… and last time. The first and last time he would ever see tenderness or love on his father's face; the first and last time he'd ever hear his father swear to protect him; and the first and last time he'd ever experience the solid and warm feeling of his father's arms around him – no matter how short that moment was.

But this time… this time it was _different._

It took Harry's feverish and distraught mind to determine why at first… and then he realized. Alongside his father – _who was just standing in the doorway, staring at his Mum's body in shock and remembered pain; rather than running to her as Harry remembered him doing – _there was another. A beautiful, golden-haired angel stood slightly behind the black-garbed man; looking even more radiant in comparison to the garishness of the first.

Harry felt hope – bright and hot and _glorious_ – explode from his chest. Maybe this was finally it! Maybe this gorgeous angel was here to take him away. Maybe this was his purgatory, and he'd served it, and now finally…

_Please… oh please please please Mum… please say that I'm coming to see you soon… oh, please…_

* * *

><p>"Madam! What's happening?" Lucius Malfoy had to yell to make himself heard over the din as the monitoring charms started going haywire; beeping and whirling and flashing.<p>

Poppy didn't even pause upon hearing the volume and tone in the Malfoy Lord's voice that would have brought many others to their knees. She flitted about, flicking and slashing her wand in complex movements and motions that only seemed to grow more violent and frantic with every passing second.

At last, she threw down her wand and grabbed both Lucius and Minerva's arms and dragged them towards the three prone forms. Before either had a chance to protest the manhandling, Poppy had shoved a bundle of bandages into each of their hands and pushed them into position – one on either side of Harry's bed.

"P-Poppy…" Minerva asked in a shaky voice, face paler than alabaster parchment. "Is that… there's more blood than before…" And, after glancing quickly, Lucius knew this to be true; and cursed.

"Yes!" Snapped Poppy as she tore the blood-soaked bandages from the still boy's arms – _still as death… no, don't think about it!_ "We don't have much time left! You need to put as much pressure as you possibly can onto the cuts to stem the flow! I've got to get the last Blood Replenisher into his system!"

Without a second's hesitation, not giving a single thought to his robes or pristine appearance, Lucius immediately folded the bandages and pressed them tightly to the long, jagged cut on the boy's right arm; while Minerva followed shortly behind with the left. Poppy flew like the hounds of hell were on her heels, and came back seconds later with the required potion.

The next moment it was in the IV bag, and the beeping and flashing lights faded and all was blessed silence. Ominous silence. Deafening silence.

And still, Lucius and Minerva did not dare ease from their task. After an eternity that was truly only seconds, Dumbledore – who had remained broken and horrified and useless in the corner – asked the question none of the rest had dared to voice.

"What's happened, Poppy? And how much longer do we have?"

It was a testament to how shaken and exhausted Poppy was that she didn't just ignore the man outright – as she had been doing with both him and Lupin – although she refused to look at him. "Something happened, I don't know what, but Harry accelerated the bleeding. He's ready and willing to die – _desperate _for it, I imagine." Here, she rested her forehead in her palm, exhaustion leaking from every pore of her body. "That was my last Blood Replenisher. Coupled with the accelerated bleeding; Harry, Severus, and Draco only have minutes left – ten, tops."

She sighed shakily as Dumbledore's breath hitched and Minerva sobbed. Lucius showed no other reaction than the steady stream of tears that traitorously leaked from his ice-blue eyes. "I've done all that I can do… the rest is up to Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. May Merlin help them."

* * *

><p>To Harry's shock, rather than collapse at his Mum's side as he had in the memory a million times before, his Da instead moved over to him, picking him up and clutching him to his chest as though to never let him go.<p>

Harry leaned into the embrace, knowing that it wasn't real and only a figment of his tattered and desperate mind – but not caring either way.

Until… _"Harry…" _His Da spoke, and it sounded so much more _real _and _substantial _than anything else in this dark place that Harry began to wonder… and fear. "_Little Harry… Oh I'm so, so very very sorry… I'll never leave you again, my baby boy. I promise. Never, never again."_

"S'not twu." Little Harry sniffled, eyes bright and pain-filled. "Yew will, yew nevew wanna me… yew will leave an' yew nevew come back; jus' like mummy."

"_I'm so sorry…" _Da choked out, and Little Harry was surprised to find his Da's cheeks wet and tear-stained. _"I should never have left you, but I promise I won't ever again. Please come with me, baby boy, please let me make it better."_

Hearing the words that he'd been so desperate to hear for most of his life, Harry perked up and looked up at his father – eyes now full of adoration and curiosity. "Yew make it's bettew? Jus' likes An' Tunia dids wif Dudwey? Yews can makes de Fweak's all bettews?"

"_Yes, yes Little Angel. Come with your Daddy and me and we'll do our best to make it all better." _The Angel's voice was just as beautiful as Harry thought it would be; and for some reason that he didn't know he blushed as he was called 'Little Angel'.

Hardly daring to hope, leaning into the comforting embrace and locking eyes with the silver of his Angel, Harry bit his suddenly trembling lip. "Yew… yew pwomise?"

"_Yes… yes, we promise." _Both of them said this at the same time, and suddenly there was a flash of golden light – identical to the light Harry had watched encompass his Da, his Mum's ghost, and himself in the cruelly repeated memory – that washed over them; and Harry was filled with the purest, strongest, most wonderful feeling of contentment and happiness and _safety_ that he immediately broke down in heart-rending sobs.

Little Harry didn't even notice as he started growing, becoming larger and larger in his Da's arms until he had to shift his grip – to accommodate the suddenly fifteen year old body in his arms. As he grew he regained all of his terrible memories that he'd lost and forcefully forgotten. But as each new one popped up, it was swallowed by the golden, glowing feeling in his chest; until the shadows and darkness were subdued and Harry was left sobbing in relief in his Da's arms.

Interrupting his Da's frantic and soothing noises and his Angel's – _his Draco's_ – shocked and awed gasps, Harry turned and faced his Da's suddenly warm and loving onyx eyes – so different from the remembered dark and cold tunnels – and choked out in a hoarse voice, "You… you'll always be my Da? And I'll be your… your Little Boy?"

"_Yes Harrigan… I promise. Now and forever, and even beyond that." _Severus promised solemnly, and Harry gave a blinding, radiant, watery smile; before turning to face Draco.

"And you… you'll always be my Dragon? And I'll be your…" And here, his voice dropped to a self-conscious whisper and a blush infused his cheeks. "Your Little Angel?"

"_Yes Love. For eternity, if you'll have me."_ And he too was graced with one of his love's beautiful smiles – a smile that he'd missed over the hellish summer, and felt blessed by the gods to see now.

And, as they all clung to each other – healing and loving and comforting – they finally felt whole.

It wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be painless, and it would be a bloody uphill battle; but they would do it and come out the other end stronger and closer than ever before. They would be a _family_.

And, as they were encased in bright white light that caused the shadows to flee and fade away; they knew that everything would be okay.

They'd promised, after all. And Family never breaks a promise.

* * *

><p><em>I don't have to scream for Him to hear me<br>Don't have to bleed for Him to see me  
>'Cause I'm clean, He is listening to me<br>I don't have to scream  
>I don't have to bleed<br>'Cause I'm clean, He is listening  
>And I don't have to scream<br>_

_**You are free  
>You are free<br>You are free **_

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Here you are. The official last chapter of 'If I Die Young'. In case anyone was wondering, the two songs are:**_

_**Scream by Zoegirl**_

_**Set Me Free by Casting Crowns**_

_**Both are excellent songs and I've been dying to use them in a fic. So glad that I got the chance to use both; as they complement eachother so well.**_

_**Anywho, thanks for sticking around and being so faithful and patient, and I dearly hope that this lived up to your expectations.**_

_**Keep an eye out for my other stories, and I think that I'll start a new one to commemorate the completion of this one. Maybe. You never know…**_

…_**Mischief Managed…**_


End file.
